Monsieur Couffaine
by SoapyMilky
Summary: Marinette's beginning her junior year of high School, and new year means new teachers. Luka Couffaine is her music elective teacher, and a suffocating romance brews between them as they eventually, and intentionally, forget the problems of age and professionalism. Teacher and student AU, Marinette will be underage. Please enjoy and thank you!
1. Damp

Paris was dressed in gray today. Fuzzy clouds of cool shades hazed over the sun, blocking out the rays and warmth, and droplets had been falling since the early morning. Glazed puddles pooled in the streets, accompanying the cars and bikes that were on their way to work.

Marientte, however, was on her way to the nearest cafe. It would be warm and quiet there, with hot drinks and free Wi-fi. The city was already quiet today though, as if the rain shrouded it with a calming peace. The humidity could be better. Marinette's bangs gently clung to her face, framing her eyes and so she kept her lids low, loosing any specific train of thought to flow with the stone sidewalk as she made her way.

She closed her clear umbrella, the expensive one her mom had ordered from Japan for her 15 birthday, and shook out the drops under the cafe's front door shading. Strapping it close, she gripped the polished material of the door handle and stepped into the blends of coffee beans and mint teas.

She was right, nice and warm. And pleasantly empty. The rain and early hours must not be able to secure many customers.

There was a whole row of empty stools at the window, save one man at the second to the end, so she placed herself in one, two seats away, and order a simple hot coffee, with hazelnut, just as she liked it.

After the moment of ordering coffee, Marientte's morning went surreal. It's was sweet and quiet, like a dream with no sound.

A fever had been coming over before that day, and so she had placed her head down to rest against the counter and onto hrr sketchbook. But she didn't wake up until the stranger at the end of the stool had woken her up, in concern.

He was very handsome, and very kind. She really liked his hands as well. His hair was a soft graident of black and this beautiful blue, the color a renaissance artist might have painted a fairy-tale lake in a fantasy world. But he was real. And so was his pleasant charm and genuine personality. It would be good to mention that he was also 26.

Marientte was just turned 17.

But a conversation continued over many coffees, into late morning, and somehow the day become colder and the rain became stronger. He had walked her home, and through the beginning storm, her umbrella couldn't have shaded both of them very well.

She invited him in to dry his clothes.

Her family owned a bakery, and also a coffee maker. She brewed one up and took Monsuir Couffaine's coat to the dryer upstairs. She invited him up there too.

Her clothes were wet as well, her white blouse with cute little frills clung to her skin, giving more than just hints of color to where her pink bra was, and her thin, delicate pink skirt dripped onto the floor. Her thin pigtails were wet along with the red ribbons that tied them, sopping and sticky to her neck and shoulders.

Monsuir Couffaine, or Luka, he insisted, lean against the shut door of the laundry room, a small window let in barely any light from the darkened sky. Marientte put Luka's coat into the dryer. She offered to put his shirt, but he declined.

Of course, how improper it would be for an older man and teenage girl to be alone and half naked while her parents were out of town on a small and well-deserved vacation.

A crack of lighting broke a settling silence in the small room.

Marinette began unbuttoning her blouse.

With a mysterious and questioning look, Luka wanted to tell her to stop, but the porcelain, thin fingers opened the buttons and the way she peeled the wet fabric off of her creamy skin put him into a curious trance.

She tossed her blouse into the dryer, and as if there was no one else in the room, she casually turned away and began removing her shoes, to her wet socks, and then began slidding her skirt down.

"Marinette, wait." Luka began feeling uncomfortable. A beautiful, but much too young girl, presenting her self. He didn't want to do soemthing they both would regret.

She gave him a quick soft glance, and then turned on the dryer. With the rumbing and the rain now pouring outside, there wasn't any room for silence anymore.

"I know what I'm doing is wrong," Marinette stepped in front of him. "But. . . I want to be close to you."

Cautiously she put her hands up and Luka met them with his own, interlacing fingers. Despite their age difference, they both could feel this powerful connection between them. Neither of them had felt this passion. It was constricting, in a bittersweet way.

Luka gentely came to rest his forehead against hers, a small and very cautious smile playing on his lips.

"Marinette. . . you know you're a funny girl?"

Those words made her jerk slightly and a rising blush overtook her sweet cheeks. She ducked her head lower. He took one hand away to bring it under her chin to raise it up slightly. The invition of her parted pink lips was almost devilish.

"What I meant to say was, you're a stunning girl. Any boy is going to be lucky to be in your mere presence." He couldn't help a glance downward to her blossoming breasts hiding beneath her thin bra, the soft curverature of her supple skin, hips formed and her thighs sweetly blushed. He couldn't help being attracted to her.

"But I'm not a boy anymore Marinette."

She looked down, lashes feathering over her blue-bell eyes. She was thinking consideratly.

Despite what he had just said, Marinette tilted her head upwards, her feet on its tip toes, and brushed her lips gently across his.

He didn't move, as though a curious deer had come up close to him and a single moment would make her scurry away. He looked into her eyes.

Since he didn't make any initial response, she decided to do it again, with slightly more pressure. And he returned it, just barely pressing back against them, soft and warm. Though gentle, the tender heat flushed down into their bodies from it.

They looked at eachother for a moment, through the gray dark that had grown and the fluctuating light.

Luka might have stuttered a word or two, but he quickly unlaced his fingers and made his way out into the storm, his coat left in Marinette's dryer, and her heart fluttering like a bird's.


	2. Humid

Her white blouse was hung up, her socks folded into each other, her skirt ironed and folded neatly, and her shoes stacked back into her closet.

Monsuir Couffaine's coat was pulled out, fresh with heat and smelling like clean rain and hot cotton. It was a wheat brown, with the stiff, scratchy texture, and the ends of the sleeves had a neat gold button on each side. She also had taken the time to iron it, and then smoothed it out.

He had great taste. It was an Agreste brand, and didn't look new, but well-kept.

She ran her hands over the fitted shoulders and down the sides, imaging how his chest must feel. Certainly not like a girl's. Would it be rough and hard? Or soft and maybe a little squishy? Her father's was kinda like both.

Marinette qucikly hung up the coat.

She was somewhat thrilled about what she had done, if also mortified and terrified. But she had never felt so attracted to someone before!

He had smelled so good up close, and he was warm and wet. The way his fingers felt inbetween hers, so good. . .

Marinette covered her face, embarrassed even though no one was around. She had stripped in front of him, and had also kissed him. It had been her first, and she didn't regret it.

She didn't have his number or knew where he worked or where he lived. All that remained from the encounter was her livid memories and his coat.

With her feet quietly slapping against the wooden floor, she opened her bedroom curtain to a dark sky, the undertow glowing from Paris' lights. It was still raining. Somewhere out there, Monsieur Couffaine would probably be back at his home. She wondered if he had eaten dinner or was taking a bath. Did he cook? Was he with his family. She hadn't even considered if he had a wife or a child.

That thought ached in her heart.

She really hoped he didn't, even if she'd never see him again, she wished that he was thinking of her now. Sliding her ribbons out and laying her head down onto her cat pillow, she wondered if he wanted to see her too.

_ . _

The morning was a pleasant chore, because breakfast was Mairinette's favorite meal. Despite Marinette living in Paris all her life, her mother had kept her Asian traditions in breakfast.

Every morning, tamagoyaki, grilled fish, miso soup, and rice was the basic.

She made a small portion of rice in her rice cooker and set up the pan for her fish. She had Miso from last night's leftovers to heat up with the meal, and finished her cooking up quickly.

She had done this for years, time management wasn't a problem.

Rinsing her plates and brewing up a cup of tea instead of coffee, Marinette brushed her fine hair and tied in her ribbons. Her uniform had been awaiting in her closet for today.

School had arrived, unfortunately. And so she must go to it.

With a tap on her shoes, she was off.

Riding on her pastel yellow bike, she could spot some familiar faces at she neared the school. The one face she was most excited to see was her friend Alya Cesaire, at the bike racks waiting for her.

"Bonjour Alya!" Marinette barely kicked down bike stand, and hugged her friend.

"Marinette! Finally girl!" Alya demanded her schedule, and swapped with her. "Same homeroom! Thank God!"

Marinette gleemed, then glanced at Alya's scehdule, noticing that along with her film class, Alya also had music class.

"Music class too?"

Alya sighed, "It's a error, see on the very bottom?" She pointed to last box on her schedule. "I'm still going to be taking my computer/programming class, it's just a little screw up I had to email them about."

They switched back their papers. "Sorry to get your hopes up, but there's no way I'm going to take a music class, even if your sweet little tush is," Alya laughed, slinging an arm over Marinette's shoulders. They headed inside to their homeroom, but Marinette lifted up the paper to Alya.

"Why does the teacher's name box say 'Requested'? I thought it was just my computer being weird when I printed it out, but it doesn't have it on yours either."

Alya shrugged, "I heard one or two teachers got switched out, maybe the names haven't been put in yet?" Stepping into the classroom, Alya dropped her backpack down and slid over in a seat for Marinette to sit next to her, "I guess you'll just find out once you get there, no big deal."

"Yeah," Marinette smiled, "I guess so."

_ . _

First days were boring, nothing but papers and icebreakers. She had the same teachers and basically the same friends in her homeroom and Design class. It was this year she had decided to try a music class, now that her Althetic credits had been taken care of. Marinette wasn't all about music usuallu. She appreciated it, but she was a thinker not a player.

However, her favorite model, her source of inspiration, her childhood-till-now-crush, Adrian Agreste, was a magnificent piano player. His Godly-carved hands had brushed and pressed the teeth of the piano so beautifully and the melody played was finite in it's technique. It drove her to be inspired in a different way. She wanted to be mulitalented, just as he was.

Walking through the music room's threshold, she would step away from being one dimensional, and try her hands at violin.

It was a small classroom, with fewer than 15 people. She was grateful though, perhaps she can have more intimate lessons and better her skill with fewer students to focus on. She sat herself down, legs together and hands folded in her lap neatly, paitently waiting until the teacher walked in.

Monsieur Coffaine was a music teacher.


	3. Humid II

I'm so sorry for neglecting this story for so long, college has been brutal. But I'm ready to keep this story alive! Although i'm really sorry for this chapter being short, however the next one is on its way! Thank you for your guys' support!

Monsieur Coffaine was a music teacher.

Luka was a music teacher.

It was really him. Marinette could feel herself tremble slightly, as if her body was involuntary frightened, yet very excited.

Quickly she bowed her head down, gripping her deep blue skirt, crinkling the pleats and gently bringing her flushed knuckles to a white. She took a moment, while a he greeted the class, to take in a steady breath.

How will he react when he sees her? Will he be just as surprised? What will he say?! Did he know she was in his class since he was assigned this class? When did he switch to this class?

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng?"

She squeaked. "Yes?!" A few giggles were heard around the room, and within the second she replied, she instantly realized he was taking role call.

Blushing profusely, she responded more appropriately and then kept her eyes away from his very figure. But she could very clearly hear his voice, just as she had heard it yesterday morning when he woke her and place his hand on her shoulder. The same hand the lifted her head, then gripped between her fingers.

She wanted to look at him more, she wish she could focus on him more, with him in the room talking to her fellow peers and strumming a guitar not even 10 feet away from her. But her mind flooded and her face was heated. The classroom was filled with cotton, stuffed and clouded, and at the moment Marinette wanted to keep it that way.

Luka steadily went over the syllabus, but all while strumming his guitar and lightening the mood with jokes. Marinette tried to pretend to highlight the same things they went over each year, but paid little attention. However the bell couldn't have come fast enough, but finally the bell had interrupted the third to last paragraph.

Everyone began packing up their things, scraping their chairs and zipping their bags.

"Okay okay, off you go. You all get the gist, don't hurt anyone and don't fail." Luka said, arms bending and stretching under his clothes as he removed and placed his guitar back onto its stand.

Marinette has followed in suit of the others and was quickly packing her things, but took a split second to admire that his guitar was signed by none other than her favorite singer Jagged Stone. She shouldn't have stopped.

"Marinette," Luka's husky voice gilded into her ears, tugging a hitch from her breath. "Would you mind staying after for a minute?"

"O-Of course Monsieur Coffaine."

The last of the students just then trickled out, before Luka made his way to the door to slide his hand up the panel frame of the door, smoothly closing it shut. Marinette sat herself down on a desktop with her bag on the chair, hands sweaty and folded between her thighs as Luka turned to her.

"Marinette." He walked up to her, every step closer made her heart pound faster. She could feel how hot her ears were becoming. Stopped just an inch from her legs, he said, "It's good to see you again."

Happily surprised, Marinette sharply glanced up, a warm smile sparked, "It's good to see you too!"

He was just as handsome as he was yesterday, and still had that mysterious and calm air around him. Marinette still felt that same inviting demeanor, and my goodness those kind eyes.

They both chuckled, and didn't say anything for a moment. Obviously abashed, Marinette began sliding her fingers over pigtails, pressing her pink-colored lips together, hurriedly trying to find something to say. Fingers grabbed hers away from her hair, and held them delicately.

"So shy compared to the girl who was so bold yesterday," Luka chuckled, leaning a hand down to the side of her hips on the desk as she gasped and squeezed her eyes shut.

Without knowing what else to say, she uttered, "I-I know!" She turned her head away and pressed her legs together.

"Hey now," he said softly, "You're so cute when you're embarrassed, Marinette. Your face is like a peach."

"W-Well your face is handsome!" She declared hotly. She had never been good with words, especially when it came to her feelings, but she felt just as dumb as Chloé Bourgeois always mocked her to be.

He paused. Then closed his pretty eyes into a sweet laugh.

He let out a contented breath, rubbing a hand through his dark gleaming hair. "What are my odds that I'd see you here, Marinette."

Marinette bit her bottom lip and gulped.

An ache of delight pounded in her chest and her heart swelled. She looked at his lips with eagerness, it had not been even two days ago that she had kissed them, that his warm hands had interlaced with hers. She could smell him now and he smelled just as he did that afternoon. Unbearably captivating.

And Marinette was captivated.

"Are you. . . happy to see me again?"

Outside, a faraway crack of thunder could be heard, somewhere close, but still considered quiet. It was still rainy season.

Luka cautiously enclosed his arms around her, sliding her down carefully from the desk to hold her up. Marinette had thought she couldn't have felt her heart go any faster, but now she was sure it was too much. She wrapped her slender arms around him and gripped onto the fabric of his, taking in a deep breath. She wanted to soak up the very intensity and feeling that she burned inside her when she was around him.

Luka's voice vibrated from his cheek pressed against near her head, "You're trembling, Marinette."

"I'm. . ." She quivered happily, "I'm just so glad."


	4. Soaked

Marinette could feel her body quivering slightly—it sometimes happened when she was nervous, but this time it was in a good way. Every sense of hers was alert, focused with an astounding clarity on Luka. His arms were wrapped lovingly around her. She unabashedly breathed his scent in and moved her fingers tips in small circles. She wanted to fully utilized this moment to appreciate everything he had to offer.

And with a nervous thought, she unconsciously pressed her lips eagerly together, and felt the need to put them against his once again. With the current height difference, Marinette had to raise herself to her tippy toes, but only reached his neck. Afraid to interrupt the embrace, she instead gently pressed her lips against the exposed skin, pleasantly warm and a decent fit for her head to rest too.

Luka gave a contented sigh, and she heard the smile in his voice when he said, "There's that boldness."

Suddenly, Luka slid his hands down under her thighs near her under knees and placed her back on the desk. It was quick, but not rough—he held her securely.

With her heart thumping wildly beneath her blouse and a heat glazing over her cheeks, Marinette could feel the excitement growing between her legs. It was that reoccurring desire that she often felt practically throbbing inside her, and more than often took care of when she was alone in the house , or quietly as she should in her showers and baths.

How was it for men, she wondered curiously.

Luka pressed himself close, his sweetly warm body touching her thighs and her lower stomach. Ducking his head down, he tapped his head against hers softly, and brought his slender hands to cup her face and caress her cheeks. They fit cozily.

"Marinette," His voice was low and smooth like the strum of a guitar. She loved how he said her name, it was much better than she remembered and now she craved it even more.

Tenderly did she rub her hands across his sturdy chest, and slid them under his jacket. She took a deep breath as she tilted her head up to brush her lips teasingly, unintentionally so, around his lips.

He felt like a man, like a man who was sweet and kind and desired her like she him.

And it was, because he WAS a man, and she was a girl.

With a bittersweet groan, Luka feverishly brought his hands down from her face to her neck, down to her shoulders where he subtly pulled them apart—slightly—as if he didn't want to, but felt he needed to.

Marinette could easily feel the wrongness of the situation when she wasn't hazed by her passion. He was a teacher, and she his underage student. She had read of such a cliche romance online before.

"Luka I-I. . . Well-I-I just. . ." She gulped hard, causing Luka to chuckle and her give a pout.

He waited patiently, knowing that her shifting bluebell eyes meant she was flustered, but he could tell that she was gaining the courage to make a request.

"P-Please I-uh," Her cheeks practically blossomed pink. "I want you to-to kiss-"

Luka placed a finger on her lips, "No, Marinette. You don't have to ask."

Setting a hand on her mid back and one under her cheek, Luka gave Marinette what she desperately wanted. What they both desperately wanted.

His lips were soft, but still firm, and he happily pressed into her, just barely grazing the pink entrance of her lips with his tongue. Marinette soared with delight! Curling her toes and murmuring a little moan, she couldn't help but grip his back, still underneath his jacket. Her concerns—that weren't really there to begin with—flew off, and perhaps a little too boldly did she cross her knee-sock covered legs around his waist.

The inhibitions were now long gone, they had crossed the forbidden territory and they might as well ride into it.

He leaned into her, making her lie down across the two desks that made a small table. She happily obliged, resting her legs down back into the desks, knees up and switched her arms to go around his neck. He kissed her in the way that she now understood it to be described as 'hungrily'.

She was sure that the kisses could've been looked at as sloppy, she had never kissed another person until him when they first met. And that had been a feather touch, but this was entirely different.

Fast and firm, and once she opened her mouth to slide in her tongue, he kissed her deep. She was beginning to feel lightheaded, yet she felt everything perfectly clear somehow.

She wanted this so bad that she almost cried out in excitement.

He practically climbed on top of her on the desks, kissing her over and over, rubbing her shoulders and her stomach, grazing ever so softly against the curvature of her breasts.

Marinette let her fingers curl into his hair, bucking her hips forward into his. His weight sat a little more on her, but she could never have appreciated it more than then. She moaned his name between the kisses and he purred hers out.

Marinette guided his hands to her legs with new ferocity and motivation. Luka smoothed over them, not taking his lips away from hers. When she raised her knees up higher, her skirt fell down in delicate folds of black, exposing her pink, cotton underwear. His hands caressed her thighs and hips, squeezing gently and allowed his fingertips to graze over the rim of her panties.

Marinette's body was fire, she wanted it to be sated, in her pants for breath and smalls cries of plea, she didn't think that she'd push him farther until she decided that she would.

"P-Please touch me!" She whispered in a shushed tone, "Please!"

Now Luka had always been a good person. He knew that what they were doing was wrong—definitely punishable by the law. She was 16! He thought he felt dirty before—but the beautiful eyes of Marinette begging him to touch her and her sweet lips that tasted like strawberries in his mouth was too much.

He decided then that he was a terrible, ugly person.

"Marinette!"

"Please!" She cried. Her little fingers harshly untied the sailor's bow of her uniform, causing it to spread open and give generous hints of her porcelain breasts.

He instantly tore off his coat, and kissed her. He pressed two fingers against the lips of her pussy from over her panties, and was somehow surprised to find them incredulously wet—soaked even. He rubbed her up and down slowly, paying good attention to watch her reaction.

Her eyes widened then shut, she let out a moan and titled her head back. She clung to his shoulders, looking so perverted yet sincere in the dim, rainy light from the windows.

Swiftly, his fingers went from over her panties to under, which sparked even more pleasure for her. Luka had never been with a girl who was this wet, and he was ashamed that it turned him on even further as well.

But despite that, he slip his fingers inside her, in and out in a rhythmic motion—he knew how to play lots of instruments well—a female's body was one of them.

Marinette's hands went from gripping his shoulders to digging her nails into the desks', rocking her hips steadily to his hand. They both found their harmony, and it wasn't long at all before she was shaking with pleasure and moaning so loud that she needed to bit her lip to keep them from escaping.

Luka inserted another finger, playing with her sweet spot and curling them just right—she cried out and flung her head back, her chest upwards near his face and her knees pressed hard into his legs. Then collapse in her own bliss underneath Luka's body.

He licked his fingers as if he was staring in an adult film, while Marinette panted and rode out the waves that had cascaded her.

Her first orgasm from someone else, and it was unfairly and immensely more enjoyable than when she satisfied herself.

There on two desks in a high school, shadowed in by the clouds from outside, Luka held Marinette, and they knew one thing for certain.

They didn't want this to be an end.

_._

I'm so sorry for such a long wait you guys! I hope you enjoyed this little smut! Please tell me what you thought about it, and what you think you'd like to see happen next!

I appreciate all of your support! 3


	5. Heated

Pitter patters of the rain tapping softly against the windows brought Marinette back to now.

"Marinette, girl are you alright?" Alya placed a comfortable hand on her shoulder, reminding Marinette that for once she should keep her head out of the rainy clouds. And especially out of her dirty thoughts.

"Oh, yeah, I just—well," She nervously chuckled, and leaned away into the floor pillows that cushioned them both.

"Ahh yes, I know," Alya's eyes glinted mischievously, and a grin pressed and thinned out on her lively face. "It's been a while since you've seen Adrien, that whole Japanese photo shoot right?".

"It was in China," Marinette responded automatically, then bit her lip in embarrassment.

Alya laughed, squeezed both of her shoulders, "Nino! We're at the boy's house, but where's the boy?"

Alya's boyfriend strut into the room, and plopped himself onto a decorative floor pillow next to the girls. "Boy's coming, he's coming," he chuckled. Then, in a lower voice and one eyebrow up, he whispered in a mock-detective voice, "I think the boy's got himself a smaller house guest, a little furrier one."

With more dramatics than really expected or necessary, Alya placed a hand in front of her mouth, letting out a drawn out gasp, "You don't say?! How scandalous!"

Marinette giggled along with them, and suddenly Adrien sat down with them, golden hair bouncing and the lean muscles flexing and moving as he sat himself down.

There's a certain kind of pain that aches within you when you pine after someone, someone you know is much too far past your league. And the full force of seeing this young, unbearably attractive boy look up at her, with that sweet smile almost made her groan in the pain that suddenly twisted inside her chest.

"Marinette?" That was her name. And Adrien said it.

Her tongue fumbled with her lips and her throat went dry, but she was sure it almost sounded like a greeting. But really, despite the usual casual response Adrien always gave her, Marinette felt angry at herself. Hadn't she embarrassed herself enough?

Honestly the idle chit chat and casual discussions couldn't truly distract her from what happened since the first day of school, literally the Wednesday that happened two days ago.

After that day of. . . intimacy, Marinette had stayed after class on Thursday and Friday, only for a few minutes, to which she would allow him to caress her face and kiss her lips.

However, his hands never strayed under her clothes, his fingers would press firm against her hips, smoothing over the pleats of her skirt, while he kissed her so many times her head would spin.

Marinette smiled to herself, recalling the way his voice hummed in her mouth and his gleaming blue eyes that would—

"Earth to Marinette?!"

"Wha?!" Her body jolted, and she instantly realized that her panties were getting a little too wet for comfort.

"You've been way more spaced out than usual. Are you okay?"

Adrien's eyebrows perked up in concern, "You do look a little red Marinette."

Alya snorted. Marinette gave her look that showed she wasn't appreciating her teasing. "Y-You know, I am feeling a little warm, uh-where's the bathroom?" Adrien motioned, offered to guide her, but she quick refused, and with less grace than she originally expected, Marinette fast-walked towards it.

She hadn't been over to his mansion in a while, and would most definitely never get used to it, heck the bathroom was as big as her room! She would have liked to wash her face with some cool water, but if she was being honest with herself, she really just wanted to feel Luka's fingers inside her again.

With a groan of lust, she desperately put her head in her hands, and down onto the marble countertops. Frustrated and horny, she locked the door, and unbuttoned her jeans, slid them down with her panties and began to rub herself eagerly.

With one hand about to slip in some fingers, she moved her other one under her shirt and bra to play with her hardened nipples. The pleasure, though lackluster compared to another's, gratefully felt absolutely satisfying. And confident that she wouldn't alert anyone, as she never saw anyone in Adrien's house, she allowed herself to moan, still as quietly as she could.

She found her rocking rhythm to masturbate to, sliding down to the floor. In and out her fingers went, and unsure if she was dripping on the floor or not, when a knock startled her so bad she yelped.

"Sorry!" The apologetic voice was Adrien's of her three friends, "Can I come in, Marinette?"

She quickly pulled up her jeans, and rinsed her fingers, stammering, "S-Sure! Just a sec!" Looking down, she saw that she had, in fact, dripped onto the floor. She ripped off some toilet paper, wiped it up with lighting speed, and tossing it in the trashcan provided.

Marinette ripped the door open, a little too fast, and slightly breathing harder, not even sure why he asked to come in, but as if that matter to her. What matter was if he had heard her or not? How embarrassing! She began to mentally pray that he somehow hadn't heard her pleasuring herself. She might actually have to commit suicide.

With his gentle swiftness, he slipped inside, closed the door, locked it although she didn't noticed, and turned around to face her.

"How are you feeling?"

"B-B-Better."

She saw his eyes do a run through over her body, horrified to mentally note that she felt her bra wasn't aligned right.

"Are you so sure?" He got closer, "You look even more red than before."

She stammered excuses, some random crap about this or that, but Marinette was about to have a heart attack as the model boy continued to move towards her, backing her up into the sink and then placed his hands down on both sides of her. "A-Adrien?!" She barely whispered, her chest fluttering down and up like a bird's.

Adrien's presence had went from the sweet, contained politeness to all-of-a-sudden a completely different attitude. His eyes were the same shade of sweet green, but they were more amused and...seductive? He leaned his body over hers and two of his fingers went up to play with one of her pigtails.

"You have a different sort of problem, don't you?" His breath mingled with hers, he looked at her lips and up to her eyes. She felt like a mouse under a cat's gaze. "You're my friend Marinette, I don't mind helping you sort out your...problem."

Was this happening?! Was this really happening?! Marinette couldn't utter a syllable, she clenched her hands at her sides and yet still had some thought process to acknowledge and relish in the warmth that was coming off of his body from being so near to him.

Marinette swallowed hard, and squeaked out a measly, "P-Problem?"

Adrien's hands slid onto the tips of her fingers up her arms and over her shoulders, all the way up her collarbone and neck to placed them cupping her cheeks. "You like me, right Marinette. I like you too. And right now, I wanna show you how much I like you."

Hi guys! I know this one isn't as long as it could be, but I'll have the next chapter up much sooner than any of the others before. Let me know what you think of the story so far :3


	6. Frigid

Adrien pressed closer, his feathery long lashes folding down slowly, but not closing. He looked straight into her eyes, warm hands firmly holding her head. She wanted to scream and cry with happiness, but she also felt more confused than she had ever felt.

Why now? And why her?

They touched hers, soft, firm, and warm. She barely had enough time to kiss back instinctively, adrenaline shooting through her veins, before his hands switched in a position to grip her lower back and lower neck.

All feelings of lust and bliss and wonderment swirled inside her and burst! But as happy as she was, she didn't know why he was doing this, and it was persistently pulsing in her mind. Why, why why?

His lips kissed her slowly down her cheeks to her jawline then passed her neck, leaving a hot trail of tinglings. He slid down farther, down on his damn knees, and pressed those lips on the fabric in between her breasts above her shirt.

Through the panic and arousal, Marinette stuttered his name and placed her hands on his shoulders. She had always wanted to touch him in such an intimate way, except this wasn't a bond that was happening. This was THE Adrien Agreste, the most popular male model in Paris and one of the top ten models according to the rest of the world, pushing her shirt up over her breasts along with her bra to give them kisses as well. Marinette squealed, and clenched his shoulders.

"A-Adrien!" Why was he doing this? They had just had their first kiss, and now he was touching her and kissing her everywhere but her lips. "S-Stop!"

This isn't how she pictured it, or how she wanted it! Not like this, not so sudden and so quickly to fondling her. He did pause though, staring up into her eyes, but then gently biting one of the little pink buds of her nipples. Involuntary she moaned, but again, she pushed him.

This time she shoved him, and he stumbled back. His face looked so beautiful, even in the momentary shock. It grew into embarrassment and confusion.

"I-I'm sorry?!" He said, picking himself off the marble floor.

Marinette pushed her bra and shirt down, her entire body hot with a subtle coldness that she couldn't explain. She huffed, and brought a hand to her face, multiple thoughts and feelings swarming her mind and constricting her chest.

"I'm sorry!" She whispered.

Adrien came close to her again, at a more friendship appropriate distance. He looked like he didn't know what to say or do—she didn't either. So she smiled her Marinette smile, and with a quick parting, she half bolted out of the bathroom, down the halls, passing by Nino and Alya, throwing out an excuse of being sick, avoiding their questions and made her way out the of Adrien's house.

She walked feverishly home, wanting to cry and still unsure of what definite feelings were coming from definite thoughts.

It was Saturday, there wasn't any school.

Her parents would be back next weekend. This temporary freedom inspired her, and she rushed home. On the school website, she found Luka's email, and sent him a brisk message:

"Luka, it's Marinette. Please, I need to see you. May I come to your house? It's important."

She chewed on her cheek, for a few minutes she decided what she might do if he took hours to reply, if he did at all, when she heard her email bing!

"Marinette, of course you can see me, I'm here to help." His address was listed above. Plugged into Google maps, it was a 15 minute walk away.

She stripped herself, and then put on lotion. Without her bra, she pulled on a sleeveless poka-dot dress, red with white, and her tan, long,fuzzy soft sweater cardigan. She slipped on those white, thigh-high knee socks she loved so dearly. Her ponytails were in her red ribbons, and she added some blush on her nose and cheeks.

She walked at a decent pace, because despite the cold, sweating was definitely possible.

The grey sky always threaten rain, even as it had been lighter this afternoon, it seemed its temperament might turn sour later. She had brought her umbrella just in case.

His apartments were by the nearby river, a charming blue with brick and stone, flowers adorning the aesthetic. He lived on the third floor, the highest it went. She entered without a guard to see or a gate to scan, and entered an elevator. Up the floors she went, and her body was beginning to shake again. She pushed away any thought that might even begin to lead to Adrien.

Now she stood in front of the grey door. A silver "323" in the middle above an eyehole. She knocked.

He answered, and in a completely different image than he had ever presented to her. He was wearing blue darkened jeans and a white t-shirt displaying a small and circular graphic design. She saw dark, little earrings shining on his ears.

"Hey Marinette," his long, thinned smiles looked so sweet, so genuine. Those eyes made her feel as though she was suddenly very protected.

She might have whispered or stammered, but for sure she went into his arms, he instantly held her.

She went on her tiptoes to kiss him and the simple pleasure of it made her moan. She was slightly embarrassed by that.

She broke it, jumped up to wrap her slender legs around his waist, and squeezed tighter when he grabbed her butt to support her, her dress half lifted above her cheeks.

Luka brought her inside, kicking the door closed and to a nearby couch, his body over hers. They kissed again and again, his hands cupping her face, rubbing her shoulders, while she enjoyed feeling a basic shirt on his body.

With some unstable, unknown confidence, she pushed him up with her, and moved around to straddle him. With a babyish noise, she _mm!_ at him, slightly raising her arms.

She didn't need to spell it out.

With a lustful satisfaction from Marinette, Luka pulled back her sweater to toss on a nearby coffee table. He gripped her thighs and squeezed in a loving way, them giving a surprising slap to her ass, causing a giggling squeal. Bringing it up over her hips and very swiftly, he pulled up the dress over her head and arms. It joined her sweater.

Luka let out a strange noise when he saw she had no bra. Passionately, he continued to hold her thighs, and ran his tongue right up and down in between her breasts.

Marinette sighed with contentment, but it quickly reminded her that Adrien had done more or less the same thing just earlier, and the realization brought a wave of hot tears beading up in her eyes.

Luka noticed immediately, and instantly stopped.

"Marinette?" His expression was so soft. He held her face gently.

Without a word, she laid herself into his arms, wearing only her socks and panties now. But Luka brought his arms around her, patting her head and she silently quivered and cried.

She didn't know why she felt more comfortable and willing to be intimate with Luka than the boy she had been crushing on since she was 14. This chance would never come again, and she had ruined it, but yet the moment had been tainted to her, and she couldn't explain why.

And she cried. Marinette firmly grabbed onto his shoulders and she knew that she loved to hold onto him.

When she had held onto Adrien's, it was thrilling. But also scary.

She had fantasized for years, foolishly and hopelessly, about getting married to Adrien, having three kids and a hamster. She had thought about what their first date might be and how he'd propose, and where they'd get married, how she'd design her own dress they'd fall in love.

But that could never happen then, and even more so now! He had went straight to physical interaction, and she knew that guys who wanted to date girls didn't just start groping them immediately.

Why had it happened like this?

Why did this happen?

Marinette wanted to bury herself into a little hole and never wake up.

But instead, she cried into Luka's chest, and he didn't let her go.


	7. Steeped

_(This draft has honestly been sitting in my phone for months, I think it's as good as it's going to get, as least for where I want it to go. Hopefully you guys haven't unfollowed the story yet, haha~ If you haven't, thanks for sticking around, I really appreciate it.)_

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_._

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Marientte's first sensation that came to her, before a sense of consciousness did, was the feeling of warmth and a soft fabric, pressed perfectly against her skin.

Her eyes felt slightly swollen, and she'd bet that there were salt streaks on her face. Her arms were huddled underneath her chest, which was bare, and she was laying down. She noticed her fuzzy cardigan was over her and it was snuggled under her sides to keep it in place. Although she remembered briefly that it was thrown on the coffee table.

She raised herself slowly to adjust to her surroundings. She noticed completely now that she was still on top of Luka, but they were both horizontal to the dark blue couch to be laying down.

Luka's arms were up and above to cushion his head, his eyes closed and his chest breathing up and down in a relaxed pace.

Once she lean up from him completely, the heat of her body instantly removed, he open his eyes slightly, a small smile being offered to her.

"Hi," he said simply, his voice quiet and soft. His jeweled eyes shielded against his dark lashes and his colored hair trying to hide them too.

"Hi," she smiled back at him.

While casually, yet self-consciously shielding her breasts with her hands, Marinette sat up on him, her legs against his hips in a straddling position, to view her environment.

It resembled a studio apartment, the floors was all dark wood, and the walls were all brick in an artsy grunge aesthetic. The wall opposite from the door, and also beside a kitchen, was entirely made up of three big windows with black frames, the kind that opened from the top, up 2/3rds of the window.

The kitchen was decently sized, a metallic fridge, a white and beige color scheme of an oven and cabinets. In front of the little kitchen area was the couch and a wide tv on a long, but short wooden tv stand. The coffee table in between was almond colored, where her little dress had been placed.

She noticed the entire room from after the 'living room' was raised up two steps. There was records and posters on the wall, most of them framed, and 4 rows of small built-in little holders that displayed different shapes and colors of what she was sure were guitar picks. And indeed there were 3 guitars out on stands, a speaker near as well as some other equipment.

A skinny, black fireplace was in the right corner, opposite from the equipment, and it reached up all the way the ceiling.

Luka curiously watched her take it in, honestly it less than a minute, but he was unnecessarily gauging her emotions, while also slightly surprised that she was acting calmer than he thought she would be.

Marientte appreciated the decorations of small plants, light strings, chairs and side tables, and other objects—because every detail made her understand Luka a little bit better than before.

Her artisan eyes efficiently took in the details as she scanned the large room, and then lit up excitedly when she saw a framed poster of Jagged Stone, larger than all the other ones, on the wall beside the fireplace.

"Jagged Stone!" She declared happily, "I love Jagged Stone."

Luka beamed and proudly said, "He's my favorite musician,"

They both looked at each other with a mutual appreciation of this shared interest, before Marientte's face dropped and she did a double take at the windows, realization suddenly spinning in her eyes frantically.

"W-Wa-," her words fumbled with an incredulous look spinning in her eyes, Luka couldn't help, but find her panicked expression oddly adorable, "It's night time?!"

With a small laugh, as sweetly gentle as a dew drop on a petal, Luka nodded, almost full on bursting with laughter when she brought her hands to her cheeks and continued to stutter out words in a panic.

Luka sat himself up slightly on his elbows, "It's okay, Marientte!" He reassured her.

However, she still bounded up from his body off the couch, blushing hotly as she turned her body away from him to scrunch on her little dress. Luka's body, with Marinette completely removed, felt much colder without her warmth pressed up against him, and he admitted that he would have much rather prefer her back on top. Instead of retrieving her to be near him again, he sat up from his couch.

"I'm so sorry!" Marientte shook her head as if she was trying to shake out the words. "I-I came here all of a sudden and then just barged in here, threw myself at you, you probably had other things to do, and-and I fell asleep and you didn't move, I should've just stayed at home and let you be and-"

Gently, Luka presses two, black-nail polished fingers against her little pink lips.

"How about some dinner? Do you like pasta?"

Marientte blinked. "Y-Yeah." His expression was still that calm kindness, but his eyes transmitted something more than made Marinette's thighs want to press together and suddenly she wanted to press herself into him once again. His two fingers, warm buds kissing her lips instead of his own, left her lips as delicately as them came.

"So do I," Luka grinned. "I'll make some,"

Luka illuminated the room with a flick of the kitchen switch, everything much brighter and a lot clearer to Marinette. She realized now how embarrassing it was to have dressed herself up like a lolita, and with shame she picked up her knee socks to fold them, then abandon them next to coffee table.

All at once, as Luka pulled at a pot and pulled a box from the pantry, Marinette felt even more mortified than when she was naked. With hands pressed in front of her face, she quietly slipped out Luka's name.

"Hm? Yes Marinette?"

"Do happen to have a shirt or something I could, eh, borrow?"

Luka raised his eyebrows in an amused fashion, "Oh? But you look so cute now too."

Flaming cherries bursted red in her cheeks and with a meek, silly grin Marinette squeaked, "What?! No no no—I feel ridiculous, honestly, I'd feel way more comfortable with your clothesss... but uh I mean clothes in general too—not just "your" clothes—but I like your clothes like I like you too!"

Her rushing breath finally came to end once she internally cringed from what she had just said.

With a soft chuckle and a gentle smile, Luka gestured to a hallway off of right of the couch, "Help yourself to whatever you need." A smooth wink was given as well and Marinette shyly giggled before walking off into darken hallway.

There were 3 doors down the hall, one to her right, one down the end in the middle, and a set of double doors to her left. She can tell the middle door partly concealed a small bathroom, and the double doors she took a guess that they might be the washer and dryer behind.

The last one was Luka's room, partly opened as well and bearing a darken blue light glowing from the slit revealed, from a window perhaps. She slipped inside and left it halfway opened, inside a typical bedroom of a dark wooden double bed, a nightstand to one side, a tall lamp to the other. A dresser as high up to her stomach was in front of the bed up to the well on her left when she entered, and tentatively she opened a few drawers, searching for a shirt.

She got socks on the first, pants on the second, and boxers briefs on the third, to which she quickly shut. On the fourth she found them and they were actually neatly folded and stacked, although a few on top she could tell had been shuffled around.

She flipped them up a bit, reading the words or admiring the different designs. There were multiple Jagged Stone ones, and with surprised glee, she saw one with the first Album cover she designed for Jagged. She decided it was the one, and went to slip it on, but promptly remember that her dress was still pretty short.

She didn't want to come out with an entire outfit of his though, so a t-shirt over her would be well enough.

She heard the closing of cabinets and water pouring into a pot. The flick of a flame could be heard and the sound as it blazed alive was too.

She stood just right behind the shadow of the door, the kitchen light making a golden line slice through the darkness of the room. If she wiggled her toes out farther, they'd kissed the light. But Marinette first smoothed the soft shirt fabric over her body, before clutching it in folds between her fingers.

Just what kind of mess had she made this into? An embarrassing situation with Adrien hadn't exactly been because of her actions, but this situation was.

There was a rhythmic chop chop chop now, something being sliced on a board.

She took a breath.

 _Slice_.

Then another.

 _Chop_.

She couldn't hide in his bedroom forever. And he'd start to wonder what was taking her so long, and the last thing she'd ever want him to suspect was that she was looking around his things or going through his clothes.

She slowly opened the door farther, letting the light spread out like a fan across the floor. Luka was stirring a pot, his back to her.

With her little feet patting across the floor, Marinette took the briefest moment to admire the lovely shades of blues and black of Luka's hair, and before she had the time to even wonder on how the length would feel again between her fingers, he turned to her, with an that easy smile.

She returned it and offered to help.

With a hand raised slightly as to gesture an _it's alright, thank you_ , Luka leaned forward on the counter with his elbows holding each other, he looked into her eyes and said, "Marinette, is everything okay?"


End file.
